Empire of Regonas: Prelude
by Regonas
Summary: Some men are born into greatness. Some men are made to be great. Some, however, have it thrust upon them. This is the beginning of the story of Regonas.
1. Prologue

Prologue: Untitled

(Well, I know the title is _technically_ "Prologue: Untitled", but come on, let me have some fun.)

Reggie Owens sighed, and looked dejectedly into the clear night sky, as he walked along the sidewalks of his suburban neighborhood, hands in the pockets of his white hoodie. His latest girlfriend had just broken up with him, leaving him to walk home alone. Why must everything bad happen to him? Reggie was a good guy, he had treated her right, volunteered at the local Veterinary Hospital, had a steady job as a caretaker in the old folks' home... He couldn't see why she had dumped him.

"Hey there, mopeypants. What's wrong now?" Reggie's miserable reverie was broken by the familiar drawl of his favorite gal from Alabama, his best friend, Alex Tanner. She sat on the top of her car, a '97 Charger, parked at the end of the block, staring into the night sky.

Reggie sighed. "Ollie broke up with me."

Gesturing to the parked car, Reggie sighed again, features getting even more morose. "Although I guess you knew she would."

Alex shrugged, brushing her long bangs out of her face. "Reggie... it was kind of no secret that 'Livvy just wanted a piece of that fine, sculpted booty."

Her eyes following the curve of his backside, she nodded appreciatively. "Rawr."

Reggie just rolled his eyes, his best friend easily bringing him out of his funk. The redhead had that effect on everyone, although Reggie and her were some of the closest friends anyone would ever see.

Hopping down from the hood, brown leather bomber jacket flapping about, Alex looked at Reggie, and said, "Midnight Road?"

Reggie nodded, an actual smile breaking across his face. "Midnight Road."

The Midnight Road was an old, overgrown dirt path, barely wide enough for her Charger, found by Reggie and Alex years back, when Reggie was chased by Mrs. Doff's big mastiff, Frank, who thought he was a trespasser.

Alex bailed him out by letting him in the car, just in time, but by then, they had gotten too much forward momentum to stop. Crashing through the underbrush, they had found a small open path in the woods around the community. Following the trail through the thick brush, they stumbled upon a clearing, where there were no trees above nor bushes below, where the stars seemed to be closer to the earth than anywhere else. It was their own little refuge from the craziness of the world, and they liked it that way.

The two sat on the hood of the Charger, side by side, looking at the stars. They were both drinking from cans of some crappy beer, laughing at bad jokes, and generally having a good time. However, even though they were both getting buzzed, their conversation sobered up, as Reggie vented to his best friend about the travails of his love life, frustration at his seeming helplessness to keep a stable relationship building, and showing on his face.

"It's just... it seems no matter what I do, nothing goes right for me. Ollie cheated on me, Sophia dumped me, and Tiffany moved to go to UCAF. What am I doing wrong, Alex? Why does nothing work out for me?"

Alex thought it over for a second, then looked at him, winking. "I think... it might have to do with your terrible taste in women."

Reggie, _grossly_ offended, began to say, "Hey, at least I'm dating-," but Alex cut him off by throwing an empty can at his head, laughing at the _doink_ sound it made when it bounced off.

"First: Ow. That hurts. Second: Hey, you could be doing _waaaaay_ worse. At least _you're_ getting hella laid." Laughing a bit, Alex brushed her hair behind her ear and looked at Reggie, saying, "Reggie... It's really not your taste in women. Really. It's more that... you open your heart to everyone, and you overlook their flaws, so you're constantly hurt." Pulling another beer from the plastic six-pack-ring, she opened it with a _ssssss,_ and took a sip of it, the foam tickling her upper lip.

"You just need to learn when to take a break, Reggie. You don't _always_ need to be in a relationship. Try it. Take some time. Live your own life, not one focused on another person."

Reggie just stared. When had his friend become so... wise? Alex winked at her longtime friend. "Marvel before my Koan-like knowledge." Reggie smiled, shaking his head. Alex would be Alex, he supposed. Finishing off his drink, and cracking open another beer, he looked at the night sky, and gasped. There was a giant three-fingered hand, long talons at the end of each finger, wrapping around the moon. What came next, though, neither hapless Reggie nor world-wise Alex could begin to explain.

A long ribbed body coalesced out of the stars, and the taloned hand _tossed_ the _moon,_ the freaking _moon,_ to where a head should be on the serpentine being. Once on its' 'shoulders', the moon shifted to become the head of an Eastern Dragon, which looked altogether too smug for a moon-turned-face. Slithering towards them, the dragon made of stars and moondust examined them closely, the Aitken Basin turned into a single, ebony eye. Stunned, all Alex and Reggie could do was stare at it in shock. When it spoke, its' voice boomed, in a great baritone, rattling the car's windows.

"Hmmm, yes, you should do nicely. I'll save you the trouble of signing the contract. Now be on your way, you two, and no shagging in the portal."

Before they could even cry out, the dragon snapped his fingers, and they suddenly weren't on top of the Charger, rather, they were now in a hell of whirling colors, clouds, and lightning. Neither one could stay awake for more than two seconds of getting buffeted about like that, and the hell of colors disappeared into the peaceful darkness of unconsciousness.

Lord Regonas woke up with a start, rubbing his eyes. It appeared that he had fallen asleep on his throne, a massive obsidian number, with skulls, spikes, and jets of flame decorating it. Regonas was quite proud of it.

Standing up, he stretched, and then strode forward, dressed in a long black trenchcoat, which admittedly did add to the general aestetic of the room, then walked towards the single door of the throne room, a giant metal gate, which opened upon his mental command. Really, the whole throne room in general was pretty badass, no question. Stepping through the gate, he found himself in a brightly lit, functionalist corridoor, with several black-uniformed guards standing at doors, each of which had a rifle slung over their shoulder and a large pistol as their sidearm.

The guards, who had been chatting amicably before now, stopped talking, and snapped to attention as soon as they saw him. Smiling, he waved them off, letting them return to the 'ready' position. He would admit, being saluted did give him a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. Walking down the hallway, he found his destination at the end, behind a large bulkhead, which opened with a pnumatic _hiss_ as he approached, revealing a spacious command room, a large window taking up most of the wall, showing him the black void of space, broken only by pinpricks of light, the numerous stars that dotted the entirety of space.

On the floor in front of him was a large holographic display that switched through several statistics and status reports from all over the ship, but finally came to rest on the damage report, a massive holographic model of the dreadnaught, which had several flashing red dots to represent areas of severe damage to the _Andromeda._ The display revealed that decks 30-50 had quite a few issues to deal with; from boarders, to fires, to venting atmosphere; the ship was a bit of a fixer-upper. Considering they had only taken the gargantuan capital ship from this... Galactic Republic a few hours ago, he was pleased and fairly impressed with his troops' progress. Another day and it would be completely secure. However, it was not the time to focus on the future, for there were more pressing matters on hand. Such as the Republic Fleet that jumped in about twelve kilometers out, and began closing on the _Andromeda_.

As soon as they jumped in, the Fleet Captain had previously ordered that they fire upon the captive dreadnaught, the _Andromeda._ Which suited Commander Var'ryk of the _Spiral Arm_ just fine. His bridge a professional bustle of officers rushing about their duty stations, he grit his teeth as he gave the order.

"All hands, fire." While he had initially felt guilt over the thought of engaging his sister ship, it was clear, judging from the corpses that floated among the debris of the _Andromeda's_ guardian cruisers, bloated and iced over, it was not a Republic vessel anymore. It was an enemy.

With a tremendous roar of the guns, the rumble of which could be felt on all decks, the _Spiral Arm_ opened fire upon the _Andromeda_ seconds before the rest of the fleet followed suit.

Millions of mutitions flew through space towards his ship. Regonas merely smirked. Missiles, torpedoes, railguns, those wouldn't do anything. He had an ace up his sleeve. Looking down at his First Officer, Regonas asked, "Has the _Hekate_ been installed?"

Loking through a list of active ship's systems, the bespectacled man nodded. "Yes sir, we have placed it near the reactor core, and shunted the power for life support for some of the unoccupied decks to it. It was fully charged two hours after takover, sir."

Regonas nodded, and looked at the wall of veritable death. As it neared the _Andromeda_ , Regonas watched, only acting when it came within two kilometers of the ship. Sending a psychic message to all hands, Regonas' eyes glowed a bright silver with eldritch power.

 _All hands, brace for Hekate use. Commencing in 3...2...1... Activate._ His voice resonating in their minds like the booming of a drum, countless crew clapped their hands over their ears, and braced themselves against walls, chairs and terminals; whatever they could find. Regonas, however, did not, simply standing on the viewing platform, arms clasped behind his back, eyes glowing silver with power.

He blinked.

Commander Var'ryk was confused. Their opening salvo elicited no response from the Andromeda. Was everyone on the ship dead? You'd think that they'd at least move to perform evasive manuvers, even though there was no way anyone could dodge the attacks of the Fleet- Var'ryk got his answer a split-second later.

"Sir! Massive power surge on the _Andromeda!_ " The sensors were blaring wildly as the ensign at the Tactical Sensors station on the bridge before him. "It's of a strength unlike anything I've ever seen before!"

Commander Var'ryk blanched when he saw the difference in intensity compared to their own systems. It was over an eight hundred percent increase, rating higher than the fusion cores that the ships had. "How is this possible? The reactors on the _Andromeda_ shouldn't produce that much-" The Commander was cut off by the sight of the enemy ship being shrouded in a bubble of silver flame, and promptly vanishing from view. Just like that.

Shocked, the crew and their commander both gaped at the empty space, watching their salvo fly harmlessly through nothing.

"Cease fire! Battle stations, cease fire!" Channels opened up between the ships, the commanders reasonably frightened, trying to make sense of what happened. Unfortunately, they would never get that chance.

Appearing in a flash of silver behind the assembled fleet, about a kilometer away, was the _Andromeda_. The ship, although battered, with debris flying from the various breaches that pockmarked the ship, _still_ had enough weaponry to level a small continent.

After almost a full second of silence from the ship, all guns, launchers, and beams fired, each turret, gun deck, missile launcher, and beam bank firing on a different target. The fleet never had a chance. The engines and reactors of the larger ships went first, triggering an explosive meltdown, throwing what was left of the capital ships into the smaller vessels, tearing into them with a savage force. After that, the guns were brought to bear on the ships that had escaped the explosions unscathed, causing the cruisers and frigates to get shredded like paper, when fired upon by a dreadnaught.

With an orgy of steel, energy, and fire, the Republic Fleet was no more.

Smiling as he saw the explosions through the viewport, Regonas stepped back. Waving for the bridge crew to continue with their duties, he said, "Good job men. Plot a course for the Nebula Portal. As soon as we hit the portal, you get to go off-duty. Spend time with your families, relax, stuff like that." The professionals nodded, simply looking at their various consoles, holodisplays, and stations, but there was not a face that wasn't smiling when he left.

Regonas stepped back out into the white hallway, where he was greeted by two saluting guards. Saluting, and motioning for them to be at ease, he moved past, doing the same for each guard that saluted him. It never hurt to be nice to your employees. It made them more loyal to you, and everything ran smoother. Surprisingly, people didn't have a problem with you trying to take over the multiverse if you let them take their families and gave them free medical coverage.

At the end of the hallway, he reached the elevator, which had two guards in black body armor standing at attention by the door. Pushing the button, Regonas got inside the small, featureless room, and said, "Deck 30." The door closing, he shot downwards in his elevator.

It was time to evict the previous owners of the ship.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Andromeda

Elevator door opening with a hiss, Regonas stepped out into a blank corridor that had scorch marks and bullet holes on the walls; bloodstains and debris on the floor, and several of his men in bodybags, but otherwise free of trouble. Gritting his teeth, Regonas pushed the thought of the newly widowed and orphaned families out of his mind. He would notify them in the after-battle report, at least the one that would be availible to the civilians. Right now, he needed to see what was holding up the securing of the ship.

Following black arrows his men had painted on the walls, as per procedure when in an unfamiliar area, to the command center for the battle taking place on decks forty-seven and fifty, Regonas passed by guards in heavy black armor, whom had their weapons ready, scanning the corridor for any trouble. Entering the command center, (a repurposed engineering room for the decks thirty through fifty,) Regonas waved the staff officers down as they saluted, standing from their chairs.

In the center of the room was a large circular metal table, which had ten seats around it, eight of which were taken. A hologram, similar to the one shown in the damage report on the bridge, floated above the center of the table, with one marked difference from the other hologram. Little blue dots marked every living soldier under Regonas' command, while there were red ones holding a line against the blue, flickering in and out as they ducked in and out of the troops' vision. There weren't too many casualties in the battle on his side, but twelve men and women had still fallen in their fight against the incredibly resilient crew of the _Andromeda_.

The fighting was restricted to the 47th and 50th decks, and the original crew was in control of the 48th and 49th decks in their entirety. Neither the force from the decks below the 50th nor the one from the decks above the 47th were making any progress, which was somewhat disconcerting. Regonas sat at the table, listening to the soldiers advise their comrades, tactical, rapid-fire chatter washing over his ears. What could he do to change the course of this battle... of course. Regonas looked at the officers sitting around the table, and spoke. "Tell Taneer she's good to go. Send her into the Primary AO." The tacticians at the table barely paused to process this information, before they advised their fireteams and squads to pull back and provide suppressing fire. Taneer was about to move in.

The original crew of the _Andromeda_ began to cheer. Was their stalwart defense finally paying off? They continued to exchange fire, shooting at the retreating boarders, who were moving from cover to cover; wrecked fighter craft, transports, and various metal crates providing them opportunity to do so.

The hangar of Deck 47 was a warzone, cut off from all outside communication, yet neither the boarders nor the crew had suffered major losses. With the black-clad invaders retreating, the crew, mostly pilots led by a few marines, took it as a sign, and galvanized by the seeming rout, began a counterattack, pushing forward. However, when the enemy had fallen back into a corridoor, they stopped retreating, and took cover behind metal emplacements the size of riot shields, sandbags, and plain old metal crates.

Several of the original crew slowed down as they came to the middle of the hangar, gunfire and lasblasts from both sides dying out, as the charging force of pilots and marines found themselves running towards a serene, untouched circle of hull, which was the eye of a storm of wreckage and corpses, at which a woman, dressed in black, form-fitting armor, with glowing red accents, and long red hair, which was down to her shoulders in length, stood.

With a maniacal grin, she unsheathed a sword, which was a glowing, red-bladed broadsword, a black, supertough composite metal where it was not energy, pulling it from a black scabbard at her side. After a second of staring blankly, a marine dressed in heavily damaged white armor opened fire, but the woman in black deflected each bullet with her sword, insanely quick reflexes allowing her to smack each projectile away with the flat of the blade. Gunfire and lasblasts erupted from both sides, yet the woman remained untouched, walking forward, towards the last few crewmen of the _Andromeda_.

She started to run towards them about ten yards away.

Then she crashed into the ragged crowd of soldiers, and the screams started.

Cleaving a man in two from head to groin, Taneer kept that crazy grin on her face, even as the two halves of the body began to fall apart, blood and gore spraying everywhere. Kicking a man in the chest, she sliced her sword across his neck, and he was thrown into the bulkhead behind him, breaking his neck.

While this happened, she continued to block, deflect, and slice all of the bullets fired at her, a frenzy of speed and blood. Dancing among that crew that left behind a fine red mist after they exploded, Tanner was soon drenched, red from head to toe. Pupils dilating, she kept killing, slashing over and over.

Finishing off the last combatant in the hangar, she walked into the hallway opposite where her fellow soldiers had taken refuge, her dance of death spraying blood everywhere. The other soldiers followed her carefully, about 20 meters back. They didn't want to get caught up in the melee and rightfully so. They saw what it had done to the enemy. Following Tanner deeper and deeper into the ship, they encountered little resistance, passing by the corpses of the former crew, mangled in extremely gory ways. Blood was everywhere,. The walls and the ceilings were covered in it. But most disturbingly, their boots sloshed through a pool of gore about an inch deep, that ran all along the corridor.

Reaching the elevator, and prying it open with her bare hands, Tanner stopped dancing, and waited for the soldiers to pile in the elevator behind her. Once they had set up inside the elevator in an assault formation, she pressed the button for the deck below, and they descended, headed to the 48th deck.

Regonas watched the descending blue dots with a grin. That certainly was quick. His grin faded, however, as he thought about the massive amount of death involved in that exchange. He would've preferred to have captured the crew, and given them a chance to defect, but twelve of his soldiers dead was the tipping point. Maybe three or four deaths on his side would've justified the capture of forty hostile combatants, but twelve? That was unacceptable.

Watching the blue dot that represented the twenty soldiers on that deck led by Tanner descend, Regonas spoke to the eight men and women in the makeshift command room with him. "Advise them to be on their guard. We haven't spotted any signs of life down on the 48th deck, which means one of two things. One, they have a scanning shield. Two, there really isn't anything alive down there. I'm not sure which is better, so tell them to stay frosty."

Pausing a moment to take in their ruler's orders, they began speaking quietly to the soldiers under their command, relaying what was said.

Colonel Sarvix Del-Talo of the Andromeda Confederation was pissed. Out of all of the ships in the galaxy, out of all the ships they could've taken, these mysterious terrorists had to assault the _Andromeda_? This dilomatic mission was a complete and utter failure. The four-armed humanoid rubbed his temples, frowning, two of his handguns still pointed at the end of the hallway. And to think, his people were so proud when the Republic had accepted the _Spiral Arm_ and _Andromeda_ as gifts to cement their alliance. Now, _twelve years_ of hard work and labor on the part of his _entire people_ had been ripped away, and Sarvix didn't understand why.

Growling, Sarvix froze when he heard the elevator at the end of the corridoor open with a metallic whirr. The Andromedans were not only extremely strong, four-armed humanoids with a penchant towards genius, but had a special ability almost no one outside their race knew of. Without so much as a heartbeat passing, the Colonel faded away, his body and clothes matching the pattern and color of the bulkhead behind him, and fell off the sensors, making him almost completely undetectable.

As the door opened, he waited until the invaders had entered the hallway fully, and as soon as their leader, a small redhead, was a few yards away, he opened fire, gunshots ripping through the silence and darkness like thunderbolts.

Tanner, at the first shot, was unprepared, for such a furious assault to come out of nowhere, and was caught flatfooted. The second and third shots came too quickly after that for her to react, and two soldiers fell to the floor, crying out in pain.

The fourth shot, however, was deflected into the deck above her, after she batted it out of the way, swinging up with the flat of her blade. She then crouched, and then leapt into a dash, sprinting forwards towards where the gunshots came from. Another flash, another thunderclap, and a bullet was flying at her again. She couldn't split the bullet, in this tight corridoor, for it could hit her men. So, instead, she held the sword out so the bullet impacted the flat of the blade, which caused it to fly down into the floor.

Growling, Tanner dashed down the hall, slashing wildly, while not neglecting to deflect bullets, hoping to score a lucky hit on the mystery shooter. After several tense seconds of flying bullets, slashing, and screaming, Tanner felt her sword impact something. Smiling, she followed through with her swing, causing the alien to appear, as his bottom right hand was seperated from his arm. Grinning madly as the alien roared in pain, Tanner stabbed him in the gut, and driving the sword up to the hilt, kicked him back, making him fly backwards into the bulkhead about two meters behind him. Impacting with force great enough to dent the thick metal, the four – (well, three -handed, now,) alien dropped to the floor, dazed. Tanner's grin grew even wider as she saw where he had kicked him. The airlock door was but two feet away from the dent that the alien had made.

Grabbing the alien roughly by his military uniform's collar, Tanner quickly dragged him to the airlock. Shoving him inside, Tanner waited for the alien to look back up at her, and then pressed a button labeled ' _VENT AIRLOCK'._ With a soundless cry of impotent rage and fear, the alien was ripped from the ship by the inexorable void of space.

Satisfied, Tanner turned back to her men, who were justifiably unsettled by what had just happened, and smiled. Soaked in blood, and holding a sword that had edges that glowed a malovelent crimson was not the most reassuring look, the soldiers quickly decided amongst themselves. Moving on, they followed the crazy little redhead that their superiors assured them was safe, at least to them.

They thought they would reserve their judgement, however.


End file.
